


Field of Daggers

by vocalfew



Category: Trench - Twenty One Pilots (Album), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: OC, Rewrite, Trench Era, dema
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-14 19:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vocalfew/pseuds/vocalfew
Summary: In this unending war, I've lost so many brothers.The coldest hours come before morningWith every drop of blood spilled in this field of daggers.Bring many sons of heaven to glory.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I keep remaking this story because I'm not exactly sure how to tell it properly. Here's me giving it another shot. Hope you dig it.

I hadn't realized what the true meaning of "home" was until I was trying to escape it. I had been brought up, fed, taught, and disciplined there. I grew up, I knew the rooms and halls like the back of my hand. the people I passed every day knew me by my face and the clothes I wore. Home was comfortable and safe. although I knew nothing outside the walls of Dema, my home, I was sure that there was nothing out there for me except what's been put in front of me.

the thought of leaving never occurred to me until the first day of the ninth year.

we were instructed to stay inside at sundown in order for the bishops to scout the area. as night came, we were all expected to be asleep but I could never quite shut my eyes and rest like everyone else. I caught myself staring out of my window for what seemed like hours on end, looking up at the walls that stretched on towards the clouds. if I were to go beyond them, would I be met with nothingness? would I be stricken down by an unseen force, or was there more life beyond what I already knew?  
I grew more curious as the days passed. staring at the wall every night, it felt like it was closing in with each passing minute.

does anyone else think about the wall?

we're instructed to learn about Dema and why it was built. the bishops who seemed to watch over Dema and it's people with a keen eye, and made sure to never let our minds wander past what we were told to keep sacred.

Dema was sacred.

why?

not one person thought to ask this, maybe the bishops didn't have an answer. perhaps one day, Dema rose from the ground and established itself around nine holy men who deemed that they'd keep people away from the unknown.

what we didn't know couldn't hurt us.

as I stared down towards Buena Vista, I felt an ache. it came from deep in my gut, and it caused me to pace my room in anger. why, why, why was I feeling something so suddenly? why have I never thought this before?

the light rods shone brightly in the center of my room, catching my eye.

"never ask questions you cannot answer, they would say, "you do not know, therefore you will never understand."

for the first time in my whole life, I turned off my light.

as if on cue, a loud siren had been set off. I gazed frantically around my room, wondering what I had done. do they know that I shut off my light? am I going to be reprimanded for defying? I've never been reprimanded before, I've never even...

the noise echoed through as halls, blaring out the code over and over.   
it was deafening.

as the alarm cycled back, I could tell what they were trying to warn everyone about.

P-E-R-I-M-E-T-E-R-E-S-C-A-P-E

my body sank to the ground as I tumbled over towards the window.  
a line of cloaks filed down Buena Vista spreading out and branching off into different directions.

my lights flickered and spat out sparks. I screamed in reply, hitting my head against the window. nearly mistaking the sound for the cracking of my skull, glass shattered around me.

my hair felt wet with what I soon found was blood. the ground wobbled beneath me as i stumbled forward, crashing into the rods and sending them towards the ground.

surrounded in my own blood and shards of glass, struggling to stand up in an attempt to reach for the door.

I was bleeding badly, and I needed immediate help.

Flinging the door open in an act of desperation, my body ached. I groaned out in pain and limped out, calling desperately for someone, anyone to help me towards the clinic which felt miles away. It took me ages to even leave the complex, and by then, there were lights coming closer in the distance. they flickered and bounced wildly, and soon enough the lights turned into torches.

none of the bishops carried these.

I cried out for help, feeling bits of glass in my skin scrape my nerves. the torches separated into what looked like twenty more torches, and as I fell to the ground, one bounded towards me. I shut my eyes and was lifted off of the ground, my heart pounding in my chest.

soon I was going to be bandaged up and taken back to my room, writing a sorrowful letter of how I mistakenly turned off my light. I was ready for the consequences. I was ready to accept what the bishops would wreak upon me. I was ready to beg and pray for forgiveness, hoping that my pleas would reach past their black veils.

as I open my eyes, my room disappeared in the distance. the smell of smoke and chemicals filled my nose as the way to the infirmary was in the opposite direction. slowly but surely, blackness encircled my vision as my home was completely out of view. convinced that I was bleeding out too badly, I shut my eyes once again and let the darkness consume me.


	2. Chapter 2

From what I could tell with my eyes closed, I was outside. Unfamiliar voices came from all directions, most distant or hushed. I reached my arm to confirm the plush texture of my mattress but was instead met with something rough and itchy. Suprised by this, I opened my eyes.

Someone had laid me in a tarp beneath a tent which seemed to be filled with dark green bags and small special tools. A collapsible rack stood tall in the corner, holding small glass bottles and medicines and pill containers.

"Thought you'd never wake up." A voice cooed from another direction. I reached up to rub the grogginess from my eyes but stopped short as a burning pain shot up my wrist. "No, don't move," it said, coming into view. A thin, blonde woman with eyes as clear as morning reached out a hand to press onto my shoulder. She wore a dull, forest green jacket with a black handkerchief over her face. I couldn't see the lower half, but I could tell she was smiling.

"Where am I?" I asked weakly, sinking back down against the unforgiving ground.

"Outside the walls," she said in a newly hushed voice, busying herself with grabbing a roll of gauze tape from the shelf to redress my arms and legs. "You got cut up pretty bad. Must have been some hell of a fight you put up, huh?"

"Outside the walls..." I repeated, feeling panic arise in me. Outside? How far outside? Was this okay? Was I safe? Were they going to return me once I healed? The woman could sense my immediate panic and she shook her head, nearly dropping the roll from her fingers.

"It's okay," she assured me, "you're safe now."

Safe? I wasn't safe. I was outside of Dema. Everything I knew was there. My home, my bed, my habits and routines, and my--

"I need to go back," I sat up, ignoring the shooting pain in my limbs. I could hardly remember how I was injured so badly, but then I remembered the glass. There was blood everywhere.

"Go back?" she asked incredulously, "why the heck would you want to go back? You were just rescued from there."

I wasn't rescued... The man who threw me over his shoulder. The clinic. They weren't taking me to get help, they were kidnapping me.

I didn't want to escape Dema. 

If this was what was behind the walls, I considered my curiosity satiated. I was no longer curious. It was time to go back. The fact that this crazy woman believed I was 'safe'? Dema was the safest place I knew. Then again, it was the only place I knew. That was why it was safe. Dema is my home.

"Rescued? I wasn't trying to get rescued. I was hurt when the alarms went off. I tried to get help, but..."

"One of the rebels must have found you, then. Consider yourself lucky. Not many people usually make it past the tunnels."

Tunnels?   
"What tunnels?" I thought aloud as she peeled away the old gauze that was stained dark with dry blood. Without even looking at me, she responded.

"There are tunnels to the east of Dema that we go through to get people out of there. Our seekers go out there to help escapees through Trench."

Heaving a sigh, I buried my face in my hand. With slight annoyance, she told me told still before patching up my arm and securing it with tape.   
"If you can walk, I'll introduce you to the-"

"No, no, no. I need to go home," I ordered, "Let me go. I don't want to be here."

The blonde woman stood, smiled at me, and exited the tent.

I stood to my feet with some effort before following the woman from her tent. She had already busied herself with another matter and disappeared beyond the stiff and jagged edges of the outside.

What I had expected to see was indeed different from my current reality; bright green moss suffocating the dark, grey, rocky terrain. This went on for miles before climbing into mountains and stretching ominously off beyond the fog. Tents had been pitched all over the place, mostly connected by clothing lines or flags made of faded cloth. In a messy sort of way, it was beautiful. The rugged diversity of the scene before me was such a jarring change from what I had woken up to every morning that I nearly retreated back into the tent.

The people among this "camp" of sorts all had one thing in common: yellow. It was either tied around their head or their neck, worn into rings, wrist cuffs, adorned onto their jackets by the shoulders and torso, and even some on their ankles. Bright strips of yellow swayed and flowed in front of my eyes.

My thoughts were cut loose by a taller man who approached me. He had squared shoulders, a shaved head, and a yellow X across his chest. Something about him screamed 'official', but the way he stared me down was less than threatening.

"Glad you could make it," he mumbled with a friendly grin.

Not knowing how to respond, I decided not to say anything.

"First time is always the weirdest."

I hadn't really thought out a way to ask their 'seekers' to redirect me back to Dema, so instead, the words lazily dribbled from my tongue.  
"Let me go home," I said.

He laughed beneath his breath and craned his neck to take a glance behind him. His gaze fell over the mountains that resembled crooked, gnarled teeth.

"I'm Pilot," he replied, ignoring my statement as if I hadn't said anything.

Again, I repeated myself, a little louder this time. "I need to go home, I'm not supposed to be here."

A few heads turned towards me before I stiffened. There was no discreet way to do this.

"Just point me into the direction of Dema and I'll go myself."

"No one's ever wanted to go back there." Pilot answered somberly, "Why do you?"


	3. Chapter 3

Did every question need an answer? Maybe it was just because, but I feel like I need to explain myself.  
Not now, not to strangers.  
  
If I ran, what would become of me?  
  
No matter who I asked to take me back, they shook their heads and asked me why-- Why did I want to go back?  
Well, what made them want to stay? The bishops knew how to keep us safe and contained. Why would they actively avoid something they knew was best for them?   
  
As I made it to sundown, fires were set up a few places around camp, and the tents were filled with people who spoke quietly among themselves. They readied supplies and handed out rations, that's when a woman seated herself next to me, watching the flames intently.  
"You haven't eaten yet," she said softly, offering me a piece of her ration. I declined coldly.   
  
"I'm not hungry."  
  
"But you will be."  
  
"I'll eat when I'm home," I mumbled, folding my arms over my knees.  
  
"You are home."  
  
Swiftly, I turned my head towards her. My blood felt hot. I wanted to yell, I wanted to shake all of them by the shoulders and tell them that I'm _not_ home, and none of them are. They are all nearly starving, sleeping on the ground, and hardly living. I clenched my teeth as I watched her expression. She seemed still and unbothered by my stubbornness. That only made me angrier.  
  
"Dema is my home. This is a cult."  
  
She let out a soft laugh, amused at my comment. She shut her eyes and bit into her ration with a slow shake of her head. "Did the bishops tell you that? I'm assuming they also told you that you would die outside of the walls. Instant demise was waiting for anyone who dared to escape. Am I wrong?" Her kindness turned to subtle bitterness as she watched me intently, not waiting for an answer.  
  
"And yet, here we are. If you are in fact, already dead, Dema wouldn't take you back and feed you. They'll throw your body into a casket and leave it to rot. The bishops don't care about you, they care about them. They care about keeping the peace for their benefit. They care about order and control. I'm sure that's what you're used to, but what makes you want to go back? I'd rather die to the wrath of the freezing water and jagged cliffs than to return to Dema. Ask anyone here, they'd tell you this in the same respect."  
  
I opened my mouth to speak but closed it again. All around me, I had seen more light in them than anyone inside of Dema. The colors they shed, the happiness and glee that filled their faces. Even though they slept on the cold ground and smelled of dirt and sweat, none of them mentioned a word of it. They were all happy to be alive without rules, without order. Without...  
  
"Routine," I answered. "We all need routine, rules keep us safe. The bishops wouldn't have rules if there wasn't anything that could harm us. This camp, you're all blissfully unaware of danger. You all sit complacently as death approaches, closer and closer. The bishops will find me, and they will take me back."  
  
I stood swiftly and made my way from the fire, as far as I could outside of the camp. People stared as I wandered off, silently watching me escape on my own terms.   
I'm going to find my way home if it's the last thing I do.  
  
If there was nothing that could kill me out here, surely I could make it safely back to Dema. I still had my ration to keep me sane, and the soft glow of the moon to keep me company. The lights of the camp grew smaller and smaller the farther I became, but a knot began to grow in my stomach. There was no sound. No warmth. The hard ground beneath my feet was the only assurance of life, and the sounds of my footsteps stepping over moss and gravel kept me constant.   
  
"You really you're gonna make it out there, huh?" A voice called from directly behind me.   
I shouted in surprise and turned, losing my footing and falling to the ground. Three figures stood in a row. They all looked identical in different ways but had a diverse air about them.  
  
"You know, the bishops won't be out until sunrise, and it's a long way back on foot." One boy said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark green parka.  
  
"Who are you...?" I stammered, wondering how this group managed to follow me all of the way out here without being noticed.  
  
"I'm Crash, this is my sister Catch, and my sibling Grab." He said confidently, pointing to the girl and the rather androgynous one.  
  
"We were curious to see how far you'd go before turning back," Catch cooed, pulling the handkerchief down from over her mouth. "You're pretty serious about going back, huh?"  
  
"Very serious," I replied. The three of them exchanged looks.  
  
Grab chuckled loudly, shaking their head. "Pffft, you're a riot. Dema's for the dead."  
  
"Dema is my home," I defended sternly. Again, they all looked at each other and began laughing loudly. I folded my arms over my chest.  
  
"Home, shmome," Crash dismissed with a wave of his hand, "C'mon. At least stay for the night. We'll talk to Pilot for ya, and see what we can do about getting you back there. Deal?"  
  
After a few beats of silence, Crash extended his hand to shake. Could they really agree to get me home? It wasn't like they were forcing me to stay, but it seemed like they were persistent on having me forget Dema. These three seemed to be some sort of trouble, but maybe that was what I needed to get out of here.  
  
"Deal." I took his hand and gave it a firm shake before following them back to the campsite.


End file.
